A Record of My Suffering

One year and eight months ago I woke up without my breasts for the first time. This is a photo of the logs we kept of my wound output into my drains, and my round the clock NSAIDs. 

I had one of those drains in my chest for almost a month, dutifully recording my every drop of output. 

Breast cancer isn’t pretty, and it isn’t pink. It was a big surgery with a long recovery. I found these logs cleaning out my filing cabinet - and I threw them away, glad that chapter is over. But they are a reminder of so much loss, so much fear, and a lot of strength. 

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